Roll to Me
by Meilan Firaga
Summary: Puck is sick of the way Rachel's been behaving.  Mostly, he's sick of her not noticing that he's noticing how she's behaving.  Puck/Rachel, Fluff.  Rated T for Puck's mouth.


_**Roll to Me**_

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A little Puck/Rachel ficlet that brewed up when the song hit my Pandora. Forgive any errors, etc. At the time of posting I am dead tired and barely awake, but I couldn't stop myself. It just needed to come out.

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Unfortunately, I own no rights to Glee and, thus, can't get my hands on Mark Salling. It makes me weep daily.

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The song is "Roll to Me" by Del Amitri—also not mine.

He'd been watching her for weeks. She was miserable, more so than he'd ever seen her. The holidays, in particular had taken a huge toll. Not that he was surprised. Since when were Jews ever worried about Christmas, anyway?

Anyhow, he'd been watching her and now he was sick of it. He was tired of seeing Glee club's psycho diva all bummed out, tired of watching her pout about after Hudson, and, most of all, tired of the fact that she never noticed his eyes were the ones paying attention to all her drama these days. He'd said he liked her at Sectionals. Wasn't that enough of a sign?

Apparently not. There wasn't a sign in the world that Rachel-fucking-Berry would notice if it didn't have her name on it in big, bright lights. There was no way he'd be hunting down a bunch of bulbs and paying the electricity bill for that shit, so he'd have to do the next best thing. He'd been getting ready for a week, and today was the day.

He was twenty minutes late to school and ended up spending the rest of first period smoking cloves in his truck. Every class seemed to drag by, and no matter how many paper balls he threw into Rachel's hair, she just picked them out and ignored him. By lunch he was so irritated that he was actually trying to decide whether juvie again would be worth it if he just hauled off and punched someone.

"Berry!" he barked, startling himself a bit with the volume as he stormed toward her at her locker.

When she turned around, all he could see was those big sad eyes. She didn't look any less perfect than normal, despite the slushie Karofsky had tossed in her face—and man, wouldn't that be a great person to hit—but it was all in those eyes. His anger just drained from him, but he'd yelled at her, so now he might as well keep it up.

"I've been chucking shit at you all day," he growled. "What's bugging you so bad that you can't at least tell a fellow Jew to leave you the hell alone?" That sounded manly, right? He was sure it did. It wasn't a cry for attention. Never.

She just sighed and shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Noah. My focus is, as always, on my career. Perhaps I'm just trying to prepare myself for a more introverted role."

And she walked away. Just like that.

It was so fucking on.

He was the first one in the choir room for glee that afternoon. Even Mr. Schue seemed surprised. He stood at the front of the room with his guitar in hand and the band ready to back him. Before anyone even had a chance to speak, he signaled the band and started playing, keeping his eyes focused on Rachel.

_Look around your world, pretty baby_

_Is it everything you hoped it'd be?_

_The wrong guy, the wrong situation_

_The right time to roll to me_

_Roll to me_

For the first time in ages, Rachel's eyes grew wide, showcasing an emotion that wasn't something morbid. No, this was full on shock. Puck couldn't help but grin.

_Look into your heart, pretty baby_

_Is it aching with some nameless need?_

_Is there something wrong and you can't put your finger on it_

_Right then, roll to me_

There was a twitch, a tiny one, right at the corner of her mouth. It was just enough to keep him going strong.

_And I don't think I have ever seen_

_A soul so in despair_

_So if you want to talk the night through_

_Guess who will be there_

_So don't try to deny it, pretty baby_

_You've been down so long you can hardly see_

_When the engine's stalled and it won't stop raining_

_It's the right time to roll to me_

_Roll to me_

She was smiling broadly now, looking up at him with tears in her eyes that he was pretty sure weren't out of sadness. He was in full-on cheese mode now, kneeling at her feet with the guitar balanced on his thigh, and singing straight to her face. If the football team could see him now he'd be getting paintballed for weeks.

_And I don't think I have ever seen_

_A soul so in despair_

_So if you want to talk the night through_

_Guess who will be there_

_So look around your world, pretty baby_

_Is it everything you hoped it'd be_

_The wrong guy, the wrong situation_

_The right time to roll to me_

_The right time to roll to me_

Puck stood as he finished with a slightly long note, backing away and giving her time to sort everything out in her head. He didn't even really hear the rest of the club applauding. Before he could turn to put his guitar away, though, he found his arms full of acoustic and Rachel.

"Thank you, Noah," she muttered softly into the side of his neck, her lips ghosting against his skin. He swallowed. She probably wouldn't appreciate knowing what that tiny little touch was doing to him.

"So, does this mean we get to make out later?" Alright, so maybe he couldn't help it. Rachel squeaked in mock-diva-outrage and pounded her tiny fist against his shoulder blade, but he caught the tiny giggle that meant she might not exactly say no.

Yeah, he was sure of it. Best idea ever.


End file.
